This Day 1/1
by Exley-61
Summary: an autumn mourning...


Title: This Day. . .  
Author: Exley_61 exley61@yahoo.com  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: an Autumn mourning. . .  
Archive: Sure, just let me know where.  
Rating: PG-13, sexual situations  
Feedback: Oh yes, please.  
A/N: not beta'd just came over me and wrote it  
quickly down. I hope you like it.  
  
  
XXXXXXXXXXX  
  
This Day  
  
  
by Exley_61  
XXXXXXXXXXX  
  
Wasn't it supposed to be raining?  
  
This is the thought she woke up to this  
morning as she quietly slipped out from   
Mulder's embrace, the bed dipping as she left  
the toasted covers. Scully abandoned his soft   
snores, their bedroom door snicking closed.   
  
Her socked feet padded across the chilled,   
wooden floor. Making her way toward the   
sliding doors situated off their living   
room, Scully enters the insulated porch,  
sighing. Despite their best insulation  
efforts, the room still manages to capture   
a bit of the morning chill.   
  
The chatter of cicadas blend with the soft   
ruffle of autumn leaves. The early morning  
wind swirls the fallen leaves about the lake  
front. Scully looks out toward the expanse of  
cedar water spread out before her. Golden light   
glitters across it like a topaz jewel.   
  
She can see Mr. Whitely's in his row boat, as  
she does every morning. Determination hasn't   
faded from the old man as he once again makes   
his attempt at that big catch. It's a catch   
which has escaped him since before Mulder and   
Scully had moved to this mountain range. They'd  
moved to White Haven nearly four years ago.   
The Pennsylvanian mountain air agreed with   
them.  
  
Scully looks out at the clear morning and   
shakes her head. She had truly expected   
to hear the pitter-patter of rain against   
the cabin's roof. She expected to see the  
surface of the lake spit back the rainfall  
this morning.   
  
Yet, the sun has climbed over the tree-topped  
mountains, filtering through the branches   
to streak the cool crisp morning in a   
dazzling prism of rays. As the morning  
progresses, the sunbeams have begun to   
dwindle down into a consistent spot light  
highlighting the view laid out before her.   
If anything, Scully notes to herself, today will  
wind up being unseasonably warm for late   
October.  
  
But still... she even expected to maybe   
hear the distant rumble of thunder, or   
at least see the jagged strobe light of   
lighting sizzle across the sky. Instead,   
the vista shimmers in rustic tones. The   
warmth of color and sound tugs at her   
mind, denying her expectations and   
temporarily subduing the familiar   
pangs of loss that this day always   
brings.  
  
"Scully."  
  
She doesn't turn around, her eyes travel  
the lazy slide of Mr. Whitely's oars   
as they dip in and out, in and out, of   
the water. Arms encircle her waist, Mulder's   
breath fluttering her hair, his bare   
chest presses against her. "He's still   
at it?"  
  
"Mmm,"she responds, reaching up to his embrace,   
entwining her fingers with his weathered ones  
as they rest against her stomache.   
  
Mulder's body is the furnace of heat she needs. It   
chases away more than the autumn cold skipping its  
way across her skin -- it also tamps down the   
feelings of loss squeezing at her heart.  
  
"I don't know how I'm going to do today,   
Mulder," she whispers, gripping his hands more   
tightly, trying to pull herself into him.  
  
"Shh," he whispers, nuzzling her neck, his lips   
moist and soft against her skin. "I know, Scully,   
I know."  
  
And she feels the shutter he's been holding   
in-check slip past his determination, his body   
trembling against her. Turning around in his arms   
she lays her check against his chest, comforted by   
the soft thump, thud of his heartbeat. She takes   
security in the knowledge that she has   
this. . . that she has him if nothing else.   
  
She voices her thoughts," I don't know what   
I'd do without you, Mulder. I don't know   
what I. . ."  
  
Mulder crushes her against him, enveloping her in   
arms that refuse to allow pain to touch her. . . arms   
that she knows are incapable of stopping that pain   
from happening no matter how hard he tries.  
  
She can taste the salt on her lips, her tongue   
flicking out to moisten them. Reaching up she wraps   
a shaking hand around Mulder's neck. She pulls his   
face toward hers, trying to succor the pain of   
loss in his love.   
  
He hasn't shaved yet, his morning stubble scrapes   
softly against her sensitive skin and she loves it.   
She loves the added sensation of familiarity   
telling her, 'That he is real, that he is still   
here with her.' She knows this truth and she's   
accustomed to this morning ritual of love and   
caresses.  
  
"God, I love you, Mulder." She sighs against   
his mouth, her tongue retracing his lips, tasting   
him, smelling him, her nose nudging against his   
warm cheek. "I love you so much."  
  
And she's crying gentle sobs now, sobs that he   
catches with his mouth, not letting her pain fall   
into empty spaces. Tears have slipped from his   
eyes as well. She can feel them warm against   
her flushed face.  
  
This is familiar, too. Every year this is   
familiar. Sometimes she can hardly believe   
it's been even more than a day since they've   
been reunited. Sometimes, she can hardly believe it's   
been seven years since she's held William   
in her arms and sometimes she can hardly believe,   
for Mulder, it's been even longer than that.  
  
Sometimes.  
  
He pulls her back into the house, back through the   
living room, back into their bedroom all the while   
bathing her in an unrelenting love -- touches, kisses  
caresses coupled with unneeded, but nice, whispered  
assurances of his devotion. It's a force that she   
can barely comprehend, but that she doesn't need to  
because it mirrors her own heart. Together they   
find the solace to greet this day --   
  
Yes, to greet their baby's birthday.  
  
They don't forget. They can never forget what   
was and what's to come. For today, though, they   
will leave the fight and fly into each other once  
more, sticking to only remembering what was, what   
they had for that little while.  
  
"Scully, shh...," Mulder whispers again and she   
can feel his voice vibrate down her throat, against   
her skin, within and without. She drags her nails   
through his hair, the strands soft against her   
fingertips. Her hands slide over him and down   
his back, grabbing reaching, continuing to demand  
he help her remember what was theirs and help   
her forget what no longer is.   
  
She never expected the pain and the loss to leave.  
  
Of course not.  
  
So she continues to pray that her little boy   
is safe and maybe on this day she prays a little   
harder that he is more than safe -- that baseball   
games are watched and little league is played, and  
that maybe, on this day, she will find a little bit  
of peace which has never come to touch the ragged   
hole left in her heart those many years ago.   
  
She gasps as Mulder trails soft, wet kisses   
down her throat. His breath chills each spot   
where his lips brand her his once again -- and  
she thinks, again, if she can be thankful for  
anything, she's thankful for this. . . for   
Mulder.   
  
She finds solace in his scent. He smells of   
the purity of nature -- his skin holding onto   
the autumn air he runs in every morning and   
the yard work he's become accustomed to. The  
smell mixes with the taste of sweat and coffee   
and her. Yes, she can taste herself on him.   
  
Scully can identify her vanilla bath wash on his   
skin along with her dandruff shampoo. They mix  
with the smell of their laundry detergent, all   
of which and more coalese into what is indelibly  
just "them".   
  
She knows he tastes the same on her, that he, too,  
can find himself against her skin. Mulder can  
trace his mark on her as if it was something   
visible.   
  
"Oh Scully," he whispers, his voice raspy penetrating  
the unspoken silence between them. The room begins   
to be filled with soft gasps, wet kisses, and whispered  
encouragements -- all soothing tones that lay a balm  
to her heart.   
  
Scully sits up, pushing Mulder off her. He sits   
on his haunches on the floor before her. Reaching  
to her, Mulder begins to slowly undress her with  
a reverence she doesn't even begin to feel she  
deserves, but continues to accept nonetheless.   
  
Smiling at each other, he tugs the flannel robe off   
her shoulders and lets the material pool around   
her. Leaning in for another kiss, his fingers   
adeptly unbutton the cotton nightgown that she   
loves wearing -- loves burrowing under the   
covers and against his back, the washed softness   
of the garment a favorite.   
  
Scully reaches out to trace the   
contures of his face with the pads of her fingers,  
running them over his cheekbones, over his eyebrows,   
following the dips and panes of his face that are  
cherished a little bit more each day. His lips   
kiss her fingertips which have come to rest against  
his soft, soft, lips before she drops her hands   
onto her lap.  
  
He slides the nightgown off her shoulders, the   
material joining the way of her robe. The   
pads of Mulder's fingers take their turn to   
retrace and reaquaint himself with   
the center of her throat, down over her   
collar bone and down, down between her   
breasts. He pauses to feel her heartbeat   
race against his palm.   
  
Scully places her hand atop his, before bending  
forward and capturing his lips with her own.   
She tastes him, tasting home and reminding   
herself that she isn't alone, not today. . . not   
in this, and not ever again.   
  
Smiling, she pulls back and lifts her feet for  
him to strip off her fat, thermal socks. His deep   
chuckle rumbles an echo in her chest as he   
slides his hands down her thighs, over her   
calves and lets his finger slip under the   
elastic of the each sock. He pulls them off,   
sending them flying on the floor behind him.   
  
Mulder launches off his haunches and pushes   
Scully back onto the bed, his bare chest   
covering hers as he devours her mouth with his,   
his tongue flicking over her teeth, her tongue,   
leaving the warmth of her mouth to rub his cheek   
against her own. His lips taste her ear, finding   
that spot which always causes her to tremble   
all the more.   
  
"Mulder," she gasps, clutching his heavy weight   
against her, pulling him closer still. She can feel   
his grin against her skin as he continues to tease   
her but suddenly she feels his smile fade. He pulls  
away from her to stare into her eyes. In her gaze,   
she knows he can see how she holds him so completely  
because she can see so much of herself held within   
his own.   
  
"I don't want to forget," he tells her and she   
can feel trails of tears sliding down the sides  
of her face to wet her hair line. She watches  
the tears slip down his cheeks as well. "I let myself   
wonder, you know. Only today do I. . . I let myself  
wonder. . . if he's got my. . . if he has your. . .  
if he's . . . if he's. . ."  
  
"I know. . . I know," Scully says, repeating over   
and over, her voice trembling mantra with barely   
maintained control. She sits up and twists so   
that now Mulder lays beneath her upon their   
rumpled bedding.   
  
"I know," she whispers, punctuating each   
declaration with a fevored kiss.  
  
And she does know. . . she knows that she has to   
be strong for him just as much as he must be strong   
for her. There is no question of that fact. His   
vulnerability is her strength, his trust and love   
something that she cannot live without. Today they   
will not get lost in their love making.   
  
They will not forget.  
  
They couldn't possibly. . . but what they can   
do is find each other once again...  
  
...and again   
  
...and again --  
  
all the while remembering a little boy who won't   
be scampering into their room, who won't be begging   
the two of them to go to out and play. . . who   
won't know how much his parent's hearts break just   
a little bit more each year on this day.  
  
  
~fin~  
  
FEEDBACK PLEASE :o)   
  
exley61@yahoo.com 


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